


Look Sharp

by spelldaggered



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Beating, Blood, Bruises, Gen, Hurt Merlin, Major Character Injury, Minor Original Character(s), Minor Violence, Non-Graphic Violence, Pain, Sparring, Stabbing, Unconsciousness, Whump, Worried Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-20 21:19:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16145726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spelldaggered/pseuds/spelldaggered
Summary: Prompt:merlin getting hurt by a visiting noble/asshole knight and being flinchy/afraid!!Arthur loans his servant to one of his guests, a decision he comes to regret when he discovers what the nobleman and his knights have inflicted upon Merlin. In trying to put things right though, things go very wrong.





	1. Chapter 1

The first time it happened, Merlin had chalked it down to accident.

The second time it happened, he’d thought perhaps coincidence.

The third time it happened, Gaius pleaded with him to tell Arthur what was going on, but Merlin was stubborn and proud, two unhelpful traits.

“Arthur would be horrified if he knew what they’d done to you,” Gaius grumbled, patching up his young charge.

“They’ll be gone within two weeks,” Merlin said, then hissed as Gaius pressed something against the cut across his eyebrow that stung.

“Merlin, you might not last that long,” Gaius exclaimed, and while Merlin rolled his eyes at the old man’s dramatics, he did have a moment of apprehension at what else could happen.

So far he’d had two bloody noses, one black eye, what was almost a broken rib, and this delightful new scar across his left eyebrow.

Arthur had believed Merlin’s excuse of clumsiness almost too readily for his liking, but he supposed that with so many guests at the castle currently, he had other things to think about. Certainly more important things than the wellbeing of his manservant.

“Promise me you won’t go out with them tomorrow?” Gaius asked sternly.

“Promise.”

Less than twelve hours later, and Merlin found himself back out in the training field, armed only with a feeble shield, as one of the visiting nobles and some of his knights enjoyed another round of beating the living daylights out of Merlin under the guise of sparring practice.

“Please, please give me a break,” Merlin gasped from his curled up position on the ground, trying to ignore the taste of blood in his mouth.

“You hear that boys?” grinned the nobleman. “Our servant wants a break from blocking. Be a gentleman and relieve him of his shield.”

The knight he addressed quickly wrenched Merlin’s shield from his weak hands, ignoring his cries and pleas.

Glancing around, the nobleman checked that no one was watching them, then leered down at the smaller man. “As we were.”

When Merlin regained consciousness, several hours had passed. They’d dragged his body to the weapons room, leaving him slumped by a bench, out of sight.

With a grunt of pain, Merlin assessed how he felt, and determined he could at least stagger to Gaius before collapsing again. Summoning all of his strength, he used the bench to pull himself up, and then clutching his aching stomach, began to drag himself up the stairs.

“You promised me,” Gaius scolded him, as Merlin crashed through the door, but there was little anger in his voice, only worry.

“No choice,” Merlin managed to say, but Gaius shushed him immediately, helping him lie flat on the table so he could take a proper look.

“Let’s see what the damage is today.”

The damage was two broken ribs, a black and blue chest and stomach, a dislocated shoulder which made Merlin howl when Gaius popped it back into place, and a right eye so puffy he could hardly see.

“To bed with you,” Gaius ordered, helping him gingerly get down.

“But Arthur-“

“I’ll do my best,” Gaius interrupted, chivvying him into his room. “You, sleep.”

Knowing protest was futile, Merlin turned and collapsed on to his bed, unconscious again before his head had even hit the pillow.

Morning rolled around all too soon, and though the swelling on his face had gone down significantly, Merlin still looked and felt like death warmed up.

Wearing extra layers to try and disguise the marks, Merlin finally deemed himself acceptable to face his master, and made his slow way down to Arthur’s chambers.

“Merlin,” Arthur greeted him, in the tone he often used that suggested his servant had arrived a split second before he was about to bellow his name for the entire kingdom to hear. “I- You look dreadful.”

“Good morning to you too, Your Majesty,” Merlin said dryly.

“I think that was all you said to me yesterday too,” tutted Arthur. “Most servants wouldn’t get half the chances I give you.”

Merlin nodded, having the sense to look a little sheepish. He did know how lucky he was. Most of the time.

“What can I do for you, sire?” Merlin asked.

“You can put these on,” Arthur said cheerily, tossing the well worn training armour over. “We’re having some sparring practice before I face our guests in friendly combat tonight.”

Merlin’s heart sunk.

“Wouldn’t one of the knights be better suited to help you practise?” Merlin suggested desperately.

“Yes, but unfortunately they’re all tied up entertaining, so I’m stuck with you. Come on.”

By the time they got out on to the field, Merlin was already feeling a little nauseous. He shrank away from every blow Arthur tried to land, sometimes not moving fast enough and wincing as he was struck.

Eventually Arthur threw his sword down with a huff.

“Merlin,” he growled. “I know your preferred fighting style is usually ‘useless’, but this is bad even for you. I need to practise.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Merlin breathed out, his chest heaving.

“Look sharp,” Arthur snapped, and then lunged forward, plunging his sword straight at Merlin’s chest.

With a yelp, Merlin fell backwards, crashing to the floor and writhing in agony, unable to catch his breath.

“Merlin,” Arthur called anxiously, wrenching his helmet off and casting it aside with his weapons. “Merlin, what is it?”

The king dropped to his knees next to Merlin’s shaking body, but every time he tried to reach over to calm him down or remove his armour, Merlin flinched violently.

“I didn’t mean to be this forceful,” said Arthur, gnawing at his lip.

“No,” choked Merlin, trying to assure Arthur he wasn’t to blame. “Not you.”

With that he moaned again, and Arthur decided enough was enough. Hauling him up, he draped one of Merlin’s arms around his shoulders, and then practically carrying the rest of his weight, hurried to Gaius.

Merlin whimpered quietly the entire way, and by the time they reached the physician, he was drenched in sweat and barely lucid.

“Gaius,” Arthur cried out, sweeping the table clear and lowering Merlin on to it as gently as possible. “Gaius!”

“Your Majesty, what- oh heavens,” Gaius sighed, racing out from behind a stack of books. “I warned him, I warned him.”

“Warned him of what?” Arthur snapped. “What is it, what’s going on?”

“No,” Merlin managed to choke out from the table, but Gaius chose to ignore him as he prepared various aids for Merlin.

“He’s badly injured, Your Majesty,” Gaius said, and Merlin groaned, but it was weak.

Ripping his layers off until Merlin lay there bare-chested, Gaius instantly got to work with assessing the new damage, as Arthur paled at the sight.

“Did I do that?” he asked faintly.

“No,” Merlin piped up again, refusing to let Arthur blame himself for even a moment.

“You, quiet,” Gaius instructed. “One of your guests has been borrowing Merlin for sparring practice too. Eagerness would be putting it politely.”

Arthur’s face hardened as he took in Merlin’s mottled chest, his laboured breathing, the way his eyes fluttered as they tried to stay open.

“I want a name,” he said quietly, deadly.

By this point, Merlin was too out of it to protest any further, so Gaius gave his king what he’d asked for.

“I’m going to fix this,” Arthur said, and his tone suggested he was exerting a lot of energy to keep his voice steady. “I want regular updates on his condition while I’m gone, and if anything changes at all, send someone for me.”

Gaius nodded, then watched as Arthur placed an uncharacteristically gentle hand on Merlin’s fevered forehead.

“I’m sorry, Merlin,” the king whispered, then swept out of the room, leaving Gaius to try and mend the broken heap before him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts/requests are always open over at [spelldaggered.tumblr.com](http://spelldaggered.tumblr.com) for anything you want to see - thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

“Merlin!” Arthur exclaimed, doing a terrible job at keeping composure given his surprise and delight that his servant was awake, sat up, and eating.

“You’ve never been that happy to see me,” Merlin said wryly, looking up at his king and setting down his spoon for a moment.

“I’m just pleased you’re recovering,” Arthur said coolly, ignoring Merlin’s smirk. “Means you’ll be back to work sooner.”

Those words quickly wiped the smile from Merlin’s face, and Arthur didn’t miss the shadow of fear that flickered in his eyes.

It made his blood boil. Fear was not a word he tended to associate with Merlin.

“Yes,” Merlin said, a little weakly, clearing his throat. “I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

He tried to force another smile, but winced when he accidentally jarred his shoulder a little too much. Arthur winced too.

“I have made some amendments to arrangements whilst we have our guests over,” Arthur continued. 

“Oh?” Merlin asked, looking a little startled, but the fear had been replaced by hope, and Arthur knew he wasn’t supposed to feel quite so thrilled at the prospect of his servant’s happiness.

“Oh indeed,” Arthur said. “Unfortunately, you will return to serving only me for the rest of the time we are entertaining.”

“That is unfortunate, sire,” Merlin said, an outright grin on his face.

Arthur nearly broke altogether, so relieved to see a genuine smile on Merlin’s face, which only days ago had been twisted in so much pain.

“Yes, I had been enjoying my routine of always having my clothes freshly washed and waiting for me, and my horses mucked out without me having to ask, but needs must.”

Merlin smiled at him again, but this time it was softer, full of gratitude. Arthur understood, and gave him a small smile in return, followed by a nod. An unspoken thank you, and in return, an unspoken promise that the king would always do right by him.

“I’m giving you another three days off,” Arthur informed him. “And then Gaius says you should be ready to return at a slower pace. I assume that won’t be difficult for you. Frankly, if you work any slower than usual, you’ll be going backwards.”

“Three days,” Merlin said, trying not to react to Arthur’s jibe. He’d get his revenge somehow.

Arthur nodded once more, then turned to leave Gaius’ chambers, before pausing and looking back at his servant. Despite appearing much healthier than the last time he’d seen him, the man still looked a little pale, a little haggard, a little afraid.

“Feel better, Merlin.”

—

Merlin spent the entirety of the next three days in Gaius’ chambers, attentively helping him prepare medicine when needed, resting when the older man scolded him for being up for too long.

When pressed on the subject of venturing outside, Merlin simply shrugged, claiming he didn’t want Arthur to find him and send him back to work early. He was rarely given time off, he had to make the most of it.

Gaius saw straight through him, of course, but for once, didn’t comment. It was rare for his young charge to be so withdrawn, and it troubled him, so he didn’t mind him staying close, where he could keep an eye on him. Besides, Merlin staying out of trouble was hardly a bad thing. 

The day Merlin returned to work passed without incident.

With his shoulder still sore, and some of the bruises still healing, the process of getting his king dressed was more painful than usual, for both parties, and Merlin had to enlist the help of another servant to carry Arthur’s food to him,  _and_ he’d had to ask for a chair during a council meeting, but apart from that, incident-free.

Arthur was annoyed, obviously, but sometimes Merlin thought just his face annoyed Arthur, so there was very little he could do about that.

Bidding goodnight to the king, Merlin left Arthur’s chambers tired but happy. After a week of rest, the day had been long and exhausting, but it had almost felt like any other day, and he was relieved. He knew Gaius would be too - the man was still sharp despite his age, and Merlin knew that Gaius was perfectly aware that Merlin hadn’t slept a wink last night.

The hallways were dark and quiet by now, the king having retired fairly late, but Merlin knew the way like the back of his hand, and he was only slightly jumpier than usual.

Only a stone’s throw from Arthur’s bedroom though, Merlin’s luck ran out.

“Well, well, well,” drawled a familiar voice, and Merlin stopped dead as the nobleman who had haunted his nightmares for the past week emerged from the shadows.

Merlin swallowed nervously, and turned to start walking in the opposite direction, but he found more men blocking his way suddenly, and became acutely aware that he was surrounded.

“Good evening, my lord,” Merlin stammered, the words tasting bitter as they left his mouth.

“Oh, that was very convincing,” the man chuckled, taking a step closer to Merlin, who flinched. “You know, none of  _my_  servants would dare to tell tales on someone of a higher rank than them.”

Merlin remained silent, not trusting his voice.

“But you must be something special,” the nobleman continued. “Or at least, you think you are. The king has seen to it that I no longer have any of his staff attending solely to me and my men. And that makes me feel… unwelcome.”

Light from a bracket burning nearby shone in his dark eyes, and illuminated his face in a ghastly way. 

“Would you care to pass on the message to King Arthur? That we feel… unwelcome?”

Instinct kicking in, Merlin turned tail and tried to run, but the men behind him were quicker. One caught him by the shoulders, and the pain sent him lightheaded for a moment, enough time for one of the guards to roughly slam his fist into Merlin’s stomach, reigniting every injury from before.

Groaning, Merlin fell to the floor in a heap, curled up into himself and clutching his torso with his good arm, but they weren’t done.

Picking him up again roughly, they took it in turns to have some fun with him, tossing him to one another like a game, until Merlin was barely conscious, his vision blurred and his entire body aching.

“I think,” the nobleman said eventually, picking Merlin up by his collar and shoving him against the wall roughly, ignoring the cry of pain that erupted from the servant, “that should be clear enough for his Majesty.”

He snickered, and slammed him against the cold, hard stone again, making Merlin’s head jerk and crack against it.

“Nothing to say for yourself?” he asked, feigning pity. “No begging for a break today?”

Merlin opened his mouth as if to retort, but no sound came out. Instead he choked wetly, and blood spilled from his mouth.

Confused and alarmed, the nobleman let go and stepped back from the injured servant. He knew they’d roughed him up, but it had only been a few warning bruises.

Merlin coughed again, more blood trickling down his chin, and then he slowly fell forward, landing on his knees and then collapsing on to the flagged floor, unmoving.

As he moved, the dim light there was caught the now shiny surface of an old iron bracket sticking out of the wall, something that none of them had noticed. A bracket which was now covered in Merlin’s blood, just as the floor beneath them soon would be.

“Go,” the nobleman hissed, fear in his voice.

The men scattered, uncaring of the way their heavy boots echoed in the silent corridors. They just wanted to be far away from what was soon to be a murder scene.

The sound of thundering footsteps startled Arthur, who had been sat at his table, his tired eyes trying to read a new document. Confused and suspicious, he immediately abandoned the parchment, lit a torch, then marched out into the corridor.

A threat to his castle, his people, his guests, was not an option.

“Hello?” he called out, waving the torch around to try and illuminate the near pitch black. “Who’s there?”

Receiving no answer, he began pacing slowly in one direction, trying to adjust his tired eyes to the lack of light, but what sounded like a groan of pain had him turning heel quickly, hurrying the other way.

“Show yourself,” he commanded, cursing himself for not bringing his sword with him. 

Still holding the torch out, Arthur moved it around a little more, until he finally saw some horribly familiar boots sticking out from around the corner. Feeling sick to his stomach, Arthur raced around, and was met with the sight of a half-conscious Merlin collapsed on the floor, bleeding heavily.

“Guards!” he bellowed, tossing the torch to the side to free his hands and dropping down to the floor. “Guards! Help!”

Immediately the castle sprung to life at the sound of its king, but Arthur’s attention was focused solely on his servant.

“Merlin, Merlin, talk to me, what happened?” he asked urgently, turning him over slightly. Merlin moaned at the movement, and Arthur noticed for the first time that his lips were coated in blood, a scarlet trail leading down his front to the deep crimson stain in his shirt. “Oh, god, Merlin.”

He rested a hand on Merlin’s cheek, his too cold, too pale cheek, and then looked up to see Gwaine and Leon racing towards him.

“Merlin’s hurt,” he managed to choke out, as his servant began to shiver violently beneath him. “He’s- he’s dy- we need to take him to Gaius, now.”

His knights nodded silently, Gwaine already going ahead to start opening doors as Arthur gathered Merlin up in his arms and began making his way to the physician’s quarters. He tried not to think about how this was the second time in a week that he’d had to make this journey with Merlin, how this time Merlin was so much worse than before, how his hands and arms were already coated with his servant’s blood.

“Clear the table,” Arthur ordered as they crashed into Gaius’ room, and Leon immediately swept everything from it as Arthur staggered over to lie Merlin down on it.

“Gaius,” Gwaine barked, and the older man stumbled round the corner, his old eyes already sharp, worried and calculating.

Leon hurried round the room, lighting as many torches as possible, until finally the full, horrifying scene was visible before them.

Merlin was barely conscious, his eyes rolling back into his head as he shook beneath Arthur’s worried hands. Blood was still freely flowing from his wound, and Gwaine immediately found a rag to press to it now that they could see where the injury was. 

The servant whimpered at the pressure, before finally succumbing and passing out, his head lolling to the side.

“What happened?” growled Gaius, shooing Arthur and Leon away so he could get a proper look at Merlin.

“I don’t know, but I will find out,” said Arthur, his voice wavering. “I will fix this.”

He glanced at Merlin’s still form again, and then set his jaw, turning to Gaius.

“I will fix this, and you will fix him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well obviously it had to get worse before it gets better...
> 
> Prompts/requests are always open over at [spelldaggered.tumblr.com](http://spelldaggered.tumblr.com) for anything you want to see - thanks for reading!


End file.
